


Show Me What I'm Looking For

by dreamingoutloud



Series: Flawed-The Enjolras/Grantaire Song Fic Collection [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Coming Out, Demisexuality, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Sexuality, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingoutloud/pseuds/dreamingoutloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has spent years watching the people all around him fall in love and break up and have wild nights and committed relationships.  But none of that has meant anything to him, until the ordinarily obnoxious man in the corner helps him discover who he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me What I'm Looking For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliebeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebeth/gifts).



> I've been wanting to play with Enjolras' sexuality for a while. I don't see him as gay and I honestly don't see him as bi, either. When I read the definition of demisexual, it fit him so well I wanted to cry and that's how I see him now. Grantaire is the emotional connection he needed to fall in love and find attraction.
> 
> This is #6 in the Flawed series, the song chosen was Carolina Liar's Show Me What I'm Looking For.
> 
> "Save me, I'm lost. Oh lord I've been waiting for you."

“You know what I love?” Ferre tilted his glass, draining the last of his drink. He set it on the table with a resounding thud, causing Enjolras to look up and glare. There was no scolding, though. He merely pushed his papers aside and moved his chair over slightly to keep them from the ring of condensation building on the table. 

The others, however, had been working all evening, and unlike their unrelenting leader, they were tired. And more than eager for the distraction. “What’s that?” Joly asked, his grin bordering on mischievous. 

With a sideways glance at his friend, Ferre smirked. “The fact that you can’t even say the word ‘sex’ out loud without Enjolras blushing.”

The table erupted into laughter with the exception of the man in question. Enjolras’ glare deepened. “Was that really necessary?” he asked. His voice was cold and bitter. 

”Sorry.” But Combeferre didn’t look the least bit sorry. For the person who was supposed to be one of his best friends, he sure could be a jerk when he wanted to be. 

His annoyance showed when he gathered up his notes and moved a few tables over. The others could have their break. They did deserve it, even if he couldn’t be bothered himself. Even if he was up to his eyebrows in work that still needed to be done. They had been supportive, more than he could have asked for. So of course they deserved to let off some steam once in a while.

But why did it always have to be at his expense?

His savior came from an unexpected place. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one always on his side?” It was Grantaire’s voice that had come across the room. As always, he had taken up the corner of the table with Joly and Bossuet. Enjolras could tell Grantaire was only half paying attention to the discussions they’d been having. Yet now he was being the outspoken one. And for once, he was speaking out in favor of Enjolras instead of against him.

Enjolras’ eyes shot up and in Combeferre’s direction. His friend actually had the decency to look slightly ashamed. “He knows we’re only teasing,” he defended, but Enjolras noticed he didn’t quite meet Enjolras’ eyes. “Sorry, Enj,” he murmured, looking down into his empty glass.

Though he wasn’t quite ready to forgive and forget, Enjolras nodded, before dropping his focus back to his work. He didn’t miss it, however, when Grantaire got up and seemed to intentionally pass his table to refill their drinks. As he passed, Enjolras swallowed his pride and looked up. “Thanks for that,” he said softly. Honestly, he wasn’t even certain the other man would hear him.

But Grantaire merely nodded, a small smile on his face. “Don’t mention it. You okay?”

Hesitantly, Enjolras nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Go on, enjoy your drinks. Take a breather. You all have earned it.”

Grantaire laughed, and Enjolras noticed it was the most genuine sound he’d ever heard the man make. “They may have. I’m just here because this place serves the better drinks in town.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, his disbelief evident on his face. “I doubt that. You could come at any time and you choose during the meetings for no other reason than you want good drinks?”

Pulling up the other chair at Enjolras’ small table, Grantaire turned it backwards and dropped down, straddling the chair and taking a long swig from his glass before settling his eyes on Enjolras. “I like the view,” he said simply. 

Though he glanced around, Enjolras couldn’t spot a single woman in the room. The bar was dirty and rundown and very rarely overpopulated. Which made it a great place to hold their meetings. The owner was grateful enough for the business to ignore a young political radical taking over the place once a week and the guys enjoyed the drinks, though no one had been brave enough to order food. Women rarely appeared there, though occasionally Eponine would follow Marius or Musichetta would stop by.

That’s when it hit him. And he widened his eyes before trying to level out his expression. It wasn’t like he was against gay people or anything. He just wasn’t close friends with any. Not that he and Grantare were close. “I didn’t know,” he admitted, sounding slightly embarassed.

Grantaire grinned, shaking his head. “No, I imagine you wouldn’t. You can be pretty blind about things around you unless they involve defeating injustices. And I’m not, for the record. Gay. I’m bisexual. Women, men...whoever catches my eye.”

Laughing a little nervously, Enjolras merely nodded. How did someone put what he was thinking into words? He prided himself on his way with words, on his abilities to spin people’s thoughts with just an arrangement of phrases. Right then, though, he was lost. Grantaire wasn’t entirely wrong. Were this a conversation about social injustice, about equality, about homelessness, those he could do. But when it came to talking about himself? “I guess I wouldn’t know,” he admitted, quietly. Obviously he knew what his friends thought. Courf had even declared him asexual once. Or Causesexual, as Feuilly had pointed out. The truth was, Enjolras had no clue what he would identify as. 

To his surprise, Grantaire didn’t judge him. He didn’t mock. He merely watched him, those pale blue eyes focused on him. Under his gaze, Enjolras found himself blushing slightly. “It’s okay not to be any one thing in particular,” he gently pointed out. “No one would ever force you to make a decision.” Standing, he placed a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Get back to your work. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

***

It was pretty obvious Grantaire was trying harder not to be a pest during the meetings. Joly actually shot him a surprised look when Enjolras made a comment about homeless people voting and he didn’t say a word. Nothing snarky, nothing creatively negative. He simply drank his brandy and watched the man carefully. Enjolras hid his own surprise. No need to call him out or maybe Grantaire would change his mind and go out of his way to make his life hell. 

Afterwards, though, he skipped his usual routine. He didn’t linger at the table, combing over final notes. He didn’t pull Combeferre aside to compare ideas. Instead, he headed straight towards the table where Grantaire was polishing off his third drink of the evening while Joly and Bossuet put their belongings away. “Can we talk?” he asked, his greeting rushed and brash. 

To his credit, Grantaire didn’t even look startled. He simply grabbed his own things-a wallet and his keys-and stood. “Of course.” Nodding towards the exit, he attempted to look disinterested. “If you don’t mind if we walk and talk. If I stay here I’ll just order another round and I’m not going to be any good to you three sheets to the wind.”

Enjolras wasn’t actually sure about that. That would be the most sincere honesty he could ask for. Few people could manage a lie while truly drunk. Though apparently, Grantaire was practically a professional, so who knew, really? Still, if that’s what he wanted, Enjolras wasn’t going to argue. He merely ignored the looks Courf and Ferre were giving him as he held the door open so Grantaire could exit first before he fell into step beside him. “There’s a coffee shop about a block from here. If you wanted. My treat.” 

The smile Grantaire gave him looked almost sarcastic, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. Just tell me you’re not one of those who piles a ton of whipped cream and chocolate on top of a perfectly good coffee.” 

Grateful for the tension breaker, Enjolras laughed a little. “No, just a bit of cinnamon. And some milk and sugar. Sorry. I can’t do it straight black.” 

Grantaire grinned, then, shaking his head. “I suppose it’ll do. Waste of perfectly good coffee if you ask me.” This time it was his turn to hold the door open, and he allowed Enjolras to go in first. The shop was slightly hipster, and Enjolras knew it, but he couldn’t make himself care. It supported a local business and their coffees were good. And their was a quiet corner where he could possibly open up to someone who was, for the most part, a neutral third party. 

He paid for both of their drinks before guiding Grantaire to the corner he’d chosen. Honestly, he’d often come here after meetings, when the bar wasn’t suiting his needs and he still had a lot of work to do. It almost felt strange not to settle down with pages of notes and a book on some point in history or another. Instead, he settled across from the man who seemed to enjoy ruining his days in general. It really was no wonder Combeferre had looked genuinely concerned when they’d left together. But he couldn’t help it. It felt like Grantaire might be the only one who had a clue what he was dealing with.

To his credit, Grantaire didn’t rush him. He slowly drank his coffee, watching as Enjolras added his sugar and the classic dash of cinnamon before stirring. No, he wasn’t trying to postpone the discussion he’d brought the man there to have. He was simply putting his coffee together. That was all. Finally, he looked up, taking in the careful stare of pale blue eyes. He released a breath slowly before just diving in. “How did you know? That you’re... You know.”

To his credit, Grantaire didn’t laugh. He smiled. “Bisexual, Enjolras. You can say it. I’m not ashamed of it. Just because I don’t talk about it much doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of what I am.” 

Enjolras’ cheeks went pink and he ducked his head. “Sorry. I think it’s me who has the harder time with it, not you.” Which was stupid. It wasn’t his problem to deal with. Not that it was a problem. That was definitely not how he wanted to word it. Why was this so hard? “I just... I don’t know. It’s stupid, I know that. But I don’t know what the hell I feel and what I _don’t_ feel, and that’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Shouldn’t that be something you just kind of...know?” 

God above, he felt ridiculous. Not only was he making a fool of himself, but he was doing so in front of the one person who didn’t hang on his every word like an oratory god. The one man who was willing to refute his every sentence. Grantaire barely knew him and here he was, bearing his soul to him. But the man didn’t laugh or even smirk and he definitely didn’t walk away. Rather, he placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward, leveling him with that gaze. “I think I told you it’s okay to not know what you feel. Not about this.” Yet he did seem to understand that his answer just wouldn’t work for Enjolras. “But typical you, you’re not okay with being unsure of yourself, are you?” 

It was strange, how Grantaire seemed to know him, despite the fact that they so rarely talked. They’d been traveling in the same circles for years, but they’d never really gotten to know one another. Mostly it was the dark haired man piping up obnoxious and rude comments from the back of the room while Enjolras worked to save the world. In some ways, they were polar opposites. But maybe, in others, they were more similar than Enjolras had ever truly let himself believe. 

“No,” he admitted, quietly. “Not really. Most of the time I don’t have that problem.”

”Ah, but the world isn’t entirely made up of fighting for the next great cause. There is also friendship and annoyance and love, and yeah, even sex.” And, as always, Enjolras blushed at the word. That really was a terrible habit. Grantaire merely smiled, though. “You don’t have to be entirely confident in every aspect of your life, Apollo.” 

There it was. That foolish nickname that had seemingly come out of nowhere. While he didn’t argue it, he did wrinkle his nose. Still. Maybe Grantaire had a point. “Seriously, though,” he finally continued, “how did you know?” 

Grantaire grinned brightly, but he took a minute to sip at his coffee before he answered. Enjolras had to wonder if he was doing what the orator always did. Taking a moment to compose his thoughts before attempting to speak them out loud. “I think a part of me always knew,” he began. “I’m an artist. I like beautiful things. And at some point I realized it didn’t matter if it was male or female. So long as I found them attractive. And not always classically good looking. It could be anything from a sharp cheekbone to a well built jaw. The curve of a hip or the coloring of a pair of eyes. So long as it caught my attention, the gender didn’t matter.” Shrugging, he sipped his drink and then caught Enjolras’ eyes. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s not the case with you, though. Is it?”

The look on his face was one of shame. Embarrassment. He hated feeling this way. He was so completely certain of himself in almost every aspect of his life and this? This only led to confusion. “I’ve...dated women before. I think I can honestly say I’ve been in love once. But most of the time...there’s nothing. No attachment, no connection. I just...don’t want things to go any further than where they started.” And that was weird, wasn’t it? Most men were supposed to want sex. They were meant to crave it, to think of nothing else but that when they were on a date. “But the thing is, I don’t really feel an attraction to men, either. Not necessarily.” His eyes dropped to the table, the confident leader of the students suddenly shy. “I mean, I can recognize when someone is attractive. Either gender, really. But I don’t... _want_ them, per se.”

And he had absolutely no idea why he was telling Grantaire this. Of all people, why he’d symbolically tear his heart out and place it in front of the other man. But he had and it was there. 

There it was again. That intense gaze, piercing blue eyes just watching him. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable and feeling as if he was being scrutinized. “Maybe,” Grantaire began slowly, “you’re just waiting for the right person. Maybe someday, someone will come along and change your mind completely. You said you think you’ve been in love before? Well, what was it about her? What made her so different from all the others?”

”Believe me, I’ve asked myself that a thousand times.” Enjolras simply shrugged, his discontent showing. “She wasn’t any prettier than any of the others. We were close. We were friends, first, and then kind of fell into things. I don’t know, if she hadn’t gone thousands of miles away for school, maybe things would be different. Maybe I’d even be married right now, I don’t know. What I do know is, no one else has made me feel that way.”

Grantaire nodded, finally releasing Enjolras from his stare and looking down at his coffee cup instead. “My suggestion would be to take your time. Wait for it. I know it feels impossible when you’re surrounded every day, but it isn’t. The one who you’re meant to be with is going to come along. You’ll feel that pull again and when you do, don’t hesitate to act on it.”

***

”Where’ve you been?” Combeferre looked surprised. Enjolras was never late, not for his own meetings. But the rest of the room was already full of the students they’d gathered over the last several months. Enjolras scurried to the front, dropping his school bag and his pile of notes in his usual place. Towards the back of the room, Grantaire flopped down into his usual spot beside Joly and Bossuet. Somehow he even made that look graceful.

Though he avoided his friend’s eyes, Enjolras was smiling. “We saw a movie. The previews ran longer than we thought or else I would have been on time.”

”We?” Courf had walked up, his eyebrows lifted. Enjolras glanced up to see the pair of them exchanging a look. And, understandably so. Usually they were the only ones he spent his free time with. Which got fairly lonely given both of them were in steady relationships. It wasn’t like he needed company twenty-four hours a day. But he certainly saw less of his friends than he had before they’d both settled down.

Softly, so only the two of them could hear him, he simply whispered, “Grantaire and I.” 

If they were surprised, it wasn’t anymore than he was. But the dark haired man had called and asked if he was busy before the meeting. He was bored and boredom usually led to either painting or drinking. If he started painting, he might not make the meeting. If he started drinking, he’d probably be wasted before the meeting and ruin it for everyone. So he thought he’d ask. And, probably as a shock to both of them, Enjolras had agreed. 

To his surprise, despite their differences, they’d actually enjoyed themselves. They’d shared a bag of popcorn because they both agreed it was too large for one person and then they’d joked about the highway robbery movie theaters committed charging what they did for snacks. Grantaire had even tried to convince him that fighting the injustices of movie theater expenses should be his next cause. Enjolras had agreed to put it on the list, right behind homelessness, feeding the hungry, and human trafficking. Due to the odd hour of the day and how old the film was, they’d been nearly alone in the theater, and Grantaire had convinced him to do such horrible things as throw popcorn at the characters’ stupidity and laugh far too loud at parts that were meant to be scary. 

And he’d genuinely enjoyed it.

So he ignored the potentially judgmental expressions of his friends and pulled out his notes on the city’s decision to arrest those caught feeding the homeless. And, as usual, Grantaire ordered a round for his table and leaned too far back in his chair and watched him with a cynical expression. 

Except for that moment where their eyes met and they smiled.

***

When he wasn’t being a sarcastic, cynical prick, Grantaire was actually a pretty fantastic human being. Enjolras actually enjoyed being around him, when he wasn’t attempting to make his life miserable. He’d asked him over for a tv binge marathon and he’d agreed, because it was better than being up to his eyebrows in work that needed to be done but that he had no urge to begin. 

“What’s the project about?” Grantaire asked, flicking play on the Netflix options on his television. Enjolras found he didn’t even care what they watched. He needed a night away from schoolwork. 

Leaning back into the couch, he sipped at his soda. “It’s my senior thesis. It’s supposed to be a compilation of all of our meetings and rallies and everything we’ve accomplished or started. Except right now I don’t feel much like we’ve accomplished anything so the idea of even working on it makes me want to rip my hair out.” 

With a delicate lift of his eyebrows, Grantaire smirked. “Oh, now, you don’t want to do that. There’s so much of it. If you started ripping it, it would take forever to get it all out. Really, let me shave it instead.”

Casually, as if he did it every day, Enjolras smacked the other man with a couch cushion. He didn’t even glance in Grantaire’s direction, merely settled back on the couch, reaching for a piece of pizza as he did. “Touch my hair and my next project will be on how to get away with murder. I’m sure I can find a way to work it into my law school essays.” 

“Why are you so damn violent?” Grantaire muttered, but Enjolras glanced over and saw he was smiling. The pair of them were still feeling each other out, learning when things were over the line. Apparently that hadn’t been. Grantaire simply sprawled out, forcing Enjolras to either accept a pair of feet in his lap or scoot all the way to the very edge of the couch. And, probably to the amazement of the dark haired man, he chose to allow Grantaire to drape himself over him. 

By the second episode, they’d relaxed completely. The pizza was nearly finished, the box pushed away. They were both sprawled out now, Enjolras using the recliner portion of the couch while Grantaire’s head was resting in his lap. Absently, without entirely realizing what he was doing, Enjolras found himself playing with that head of curls. The noises the motion brought out of Grantaire reminded Enjolras of a content kitten. And he found he enjoyed them. A lot. So he continued his exploration, trailing his hand from Grantaire’s head down the line of his neck to his shoulders, where he rubbed lightly. Then more intentionally when Grantaire gave a little purr. He bit his lip, reaching just a bit further to trace the lines of Grantaire’s chest. His friend boxed as a hobby, something Enjolras found barbaric. Except when Grantaire did it. Somehow, it felt...different. Though he couldn’t put his finger on why, he knew he liked it. 

His most recent ministrations had Grantaire squirming slightly. Was he doing this wrong? Should he even have been doing it at all? The second guessing himself only increased when his friend pulled himself to a sitting position. “I’m sorry,” he stammered quickly, tripping over the words and pulling his hand back.

But Grantaire made a soft ‘shhh’ sound and reached to cup Enjolras’ face. “Relax,” he said gently, and brought his mouth to the blonde’s. 

It shouldn’t have felt this good. It so rarely did. But Enjolras felt parts of his body waking up that never usually seemed to. He could look at naked women, even attempt to read gay erotica, and not feel his nerve endings set on fire the way they were just then. He responded, slowly at first, then as he grew more comfortable, eagerly to the lips working over his. Maybe they’d been working up to this all along and Enjolras simply hadn’t seen it. 

They kissed for a while, Grantaire allowing him to work up to things. Eventually he parted his lips and allowed the taste of him to fill him. Not much later, the exploring began all over again, this time along the line of Grantaire’s jaw, down to his neck, even nipping the skin at his shoulder through his t-shirt. He liked the sound that brought out of him. Not a purr, but an almost angered moan. He was losing track of time. Maybe they’d been kissing for hours, maybe it had only been ten minutes. But finally, Grantaire pulled back, attempting to catch his breath. “Apollo...we have to stop this.”

A hesitant expression crossed Enjolras’ features. Ordinarily so bold and fierce, he now resembled a frightened schoolboy who was about to get into trouble. “Did...did I do something wrong?”

The laugh from Grantaire was harsh. “Wrong?” he hissed. “No. God, no. You’re doing everything right and all I want is to shove you on to my couch and give you the greatest night you’ve ever had but...” He shook his head, his smile wry. “It wouldn’t be right. Not now.”

His telltale blush gave him away, and Enjolras looked down at his lap. A part of him desperately wished Grantaire would follow through on that promise. Logically he knew plenty of reasons why they shouldn’t. But this was the hardest he’d been in over a year. He couldn’t help wishing it could go further. That he could finally get some relief. How long had it been since he’d actually been aroused? By anything or anyone? “Why?” he asked quietly, though again, he knew a dozen reasons at least. But he wanted to hear his explanation. 

“You can’t want me,” Grantaire pointed out, as if it was that simple. As if Enjolras gave himself that willingly that much to just anyone. His brow furrowed as the other man continued. “This does help answer your question, though. You can be aroused by men, too.”

No. No, it wasn’t that easy. Annoyance flickered across his face, followed by hurt. This wasn’t fair. “I... I’m just going to go, I guess,” he said awkwardly. The bold man known for taking entire city councils on had been reduced to this. A stuttering, shy mouse, disentangling himself from Grantaire’s limbs and making his way to the door. Briefly, he looked back. “I’m sorry. Whatever I did... I’m sorry.”

***

It had been a week. And though the meeting had been announced several days in advance, one particular presence was missing. It threw Enjolras off entirely not having him there. His eyes kept drifting to the table in the corner, and his heart sank each time. As they all packed to leave, Enjolras swallowed his nerves and made his way there, asking Joly where his friend was.

To his surprise, Joly actually looked uncomfortable. He wondered how much Grantaire had told him of what had happened between them and he had to fight his trademark blush. “He just said he didn’t want to come tonight.” 

Maybe it was irrational, but a flare of anger shot through him. He just now decided he didn’t want to be there? How was that fair? And why was he asking about fairness so much lately? That was entirely Grantaire-inspired and it irritated him even further.

So he found himself at the man’s door, banging on it rather rudely. So loudly, in fact, that one of his neighbors peered out at him. When the door flew open, it was a much more angry Grantaire than Enjolras had left behind that night. “What the hell, Apollo? Are you attempting to get me evicted? Because I swear to God I’ll sleep on your doorstep if you do.”

”Maybe if you did that, you’d actually have to talk to me,” Enjolras shot back, and Grantaire at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed. “Let me in. Please,” he added, attempting to not sound like a pushy bastard. “We need to talk about this.”

Scoffing, Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Do we? What is it we need to talk about, hmm? I think we’ve talked enough, don’t you?”

Though he was furious, there was also a flicker of hurt on Enjolras’ face. What had he done that was so wrong? As far as he knew, Grantaire had been a willing participant. He’d been the one to initiate the kissing, after all. “No, I don’t.” And, with a little help from his broad shoulders, he wedged his way inside. “Please, just don’t push me away.” The door shut behind them and Grantaire turned, crossing his arms in front of him. He was watching Enjolras and, as he often did, he wanted to shrink away from that stare. But he stood his ground. “Look, if you don’t want me, that’s fine. I get it. God, you won’t be the first, okay? But can’t you still be my friend? Is that really asking too much?”

He didn’t want to admit how much he needed him. It was no longer just wanting him there. He needed him. The escape he offered, the chance to let go and be silly and not always feel like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, that the entire city was depending on him. They’d had that, even as casual friends. Did they have to lose that, too?

His heart sank even lower, though, when Grantaire threw his head back and laughed. “Are you kidding me, Apollo?” he snapped. “Are you actually kidding me right now?”

One thing he needed to work on if he was ever going to make it in politics was his poker face. Right then, Enjolras’ expression spoke volumes. He was ticked off but he was so broken, too. “Why? Why do you call me that?”

It was a brief subject change and they both knew it. Grantaire had been steeling himself for a fight and one could actually see him stop and wait while his mind backpedaled to try and keep up. “You really don’t know?”

”That’s why I’m asking.”

Grantaire’s face changed. He suddenly looked more innocent. Almost dreamy. “He’s the sun god. The sun rises and sets because of him.” His eyes met Enjolras’, blue on blue, and though Enjolras longed to shrink back from that piercing stare, he met it head on. The words sank in and he tried to grasp them, to truly get what he was saying, but he was almost scared to. “When he speaks, when he recites poetry or sings, the world keeps turning. Everyone stops and listens. Because he’s brilliant and they all can’t help but love him.”

Which had to mean... “Then why? Why are you pushing me away?”

Grantaire released a sigh. “I can’t be your experiment, Enjolras. I can’t be the test subject while you feel out who you are and what makes you tick.”

Finally, it hit him. Why Grantaire was being so distant. Why he had fought him off that night. But also, why his entire body had woken up for the first time in a very long time when he was in Grantaire’s arms. He stepped forward, crowding Grantaire’s personal space. “Who I am is a man who’s falling for his friend, and hard. What makes me tick? You.” A smug expression crossed his features as he watched his words sink in. The dark haired man tried to take a step back but only ended up against a wall. Enjolras simply closed in, reaching the point where they were all but sharing a breath. “The smell of your cologne, the taste of wine in your kisses. The way your hair feels against my fingers. It isn’t your gender, it isn’t your looks. Dammit, Grantaire, for better or for worse, it’s you.” And he brought his mouth down, capturing the man’s lips with his own. There it was. That familiar, comforting wave of warmth that washed over him. Like he’d found his way home after a long night of walking blindly. 

He felt Grantaire’s hands on his chest, pushing at him just a little. He looked up, concern in his eyes. “I thought...” 

”I do,” Grantaire assured. “I definitely do. I just... I need to make sure this is what you want. I can’t let you hurt yourself because you think you’re in love with me or something.”

In love. That was something to consider, wasn’t it? He was definitely attracted to him. Already, he could feel the start of arousal surging through him. “That’ll happen,” he finally decided. “Sooner rather than later. I know I want to be with you, and isn’t that enough for now? If...if you want to be with me, I mean.” Because he was still so pathetically unsure of himself.

But Grantaire smiled, an impossible smile of disbelief. This was actually happening, and he couldn’t hide his surprise. But he also couldn’t help but laugh. “You blind idiot. I told you the first day we talked, I came to those meetings for the view. Who the hell did you think I was looking at?”

He was rewarded with another long, lingering kiss.

***

As they entered the bar, he self-consciously felt several pairs of eyes on him. But he simply gave Grantaire’s hand a squeeze and didn’t say a word as his new love made his way to his usual table and he headed towards the front of the room.

Ferre’s eyes were so wide they almost looked other worldly. “What... Um. What’s this?” he asked, nodding in Grantaire’s direction. Enjolras could tell that the brunette was getting a similar line of questioning from Joly, though Joly looked genuinely excited. 

”Does it matter?” A slow, secretive smile crossed his face as he met those gorgeous, piercing eyes from across the room. Grantaire smiled back, nodding at him to begin. He ordered his first round and leaned back in his chair. But for the first time in a long time, he actually looked like he wanted to be there. For something other than the wine and beer. “Come on,” he urged. “Let’s get started.”


End file.
